


Warming the House and the Heart

by meridian_rose (meridianrose)



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Community: hc_bingo, Employer/Employee, First Kiss, Flint is in denial, Housewarming, M/M, Mild emotional hurt/comfort, Party, Trapped In Elevator, charles vane is mentioned, max is mentioned, some minor anne/jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 13:23:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8626135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meridianrose/pseuds/meridian_rose
Summary: Miranda drags Flint to John's housewarming party against his better judgement; Flint barely tolerates his employees during the week, disagrees with office romances, and is disturbed by his feelings for John. The party is one thing but then getting stuck in an elevator with the man is quite another.For the hurt/comfort bingo prompt "trapped together" and in an elevator seemed like a good choice for that.





	

"Be nice," Miranda said yet again before John opened the front door to his new apartment and Flint pasted on a smile.

John, wearing a casual dark blue t-shirt and blue denim jeans, greeted them warmly and ushered them inside. The interior was nicer than Flint had expected with a fresh coat on paint on the walls and the furniture more shabby chic than plain shabby. There was a long table covered in snacks and drinks, a balloon arrangement in one corner (a gift from Max, he discovered later), and music coming from speakers that dwarfed the tiny player they were attached to.

Vane, bottle of beer in hand, was showing off his dance moves to Eleanor; Flint did not think she was impressed. Max, in conversation with Billy, waved to Flint. Jack and Anne were hovering near what looked like a fondue pot of all things.

"Can I get you a drink?" John asked, every inch the charming host. "You can help yourself mind, we're not exactly standing on ceremony."

"Wine?" Miranda asked and John promised to open an actual bottle for her, though there was some boxed wine on the table. Flint rolled his eyes. Miranda casually elbowed him in the ribs.

Flint handed over a bottle bag to John, "Something you might need in the future," and John placed it with a number of other small housewarming gifts on a nearby table.

A few minutes later Miranda was sipping a chilled chardonnay and Flint was clinging to his beer like a lifeline. He hadn't wanted to come. John was a colleague and Flint liked to keep his personal and professional life separate. When he'd told Miranda this she'd actually laughed at him and said they were bloody well going and God help her if Flint was that naïve, and by the way he was going to be _nice_.

Flint was currently trying his best to be agreeable. He was glad Miranda had talked him out of wearing a button-down shirt and tie and instead going for a more casual t-shirt and jacket combo. He and Gates talked for a while, and Miranda went to gush over Max's elegant bottle-green dress.

"Enjoying yourself?" John asked, deftly replacing Flint's bottle with a fresh one as he made his rounds.

"Yes," Flint said, and it wasn't even really a lie. He was beginning to relax. Miranda came back to join him and he slipped one arm around her waist.

"I do love the nautical theme in the bathroom," Miranda told John. Flint hadn't even seen her slip away from the open-plan living space.

Silver grinned. "Thank you."

The eclectic music selection began playing what Flint thought was a Seventies tune, _Shaddap You Face_. Dufresne decided to take offence.

"That's like, racist that is," he said, and clearly he'd had more than a few beers.

"I think _I'm turning Japanese_ is arguably un-PC," John said, "but this?"

"It's sterry-sterzy-stereotipicalling Italians," Dufresne managed.

John made an "ah" of understanding. "But I'm Italian," he said. "Quarter Italian on my mother's side. So I'm allowed to play the song."

This stumped the tipsy Dufresne who wandered away. Vane was singing the chorus to the song loudly. Eleanor had moved away, probably wisely, since Vane and Billy soon began kicking their legs like they were auditioning for a chorus line.

"I have no idea why I have that song," John told Flint with a shrug. "On a Seventies and Eighties compilation album, I think."

Flint was more drawn to the lie. "Quarter Italian?" Flint shook his head. "By my reckoning you're now one and one half somethings, John Silver. When we met you told me you were half-English with some Irish from your mother's side, and I recall you telling a client you were a quarter German, and then I think you mentioned Australia –"

Miranda, hand curled around his arm, dug her nails in without losing her smile. Flint winced.

"I think what I said was that I spent time in Australia," John began, and Flint could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

Whatever grand story he was about to come up with was forgotten when there was a small shriek and Anne said, "Wanker!" and everyone turned to see Jack Rackham holding a fondue fork with a fire blazing on the end of it.

"Time to open your housewarming present," Flint suggested, and at John's blank look, Flint strode over and lifted not a bottle from the bag but a slender fire extinguisher.

There was no need for such dramatics however. Anne grabbed hold of Jack's elbow and steered him to the punch bowl. There was a hiss as the fire was doused, a brief cheer from a few partygoers, and everyone went back to enjoying themselves.

"A thoughtful gift," Silver said, and went to empty the punch bowl and turn off the fondue warmer.

"I found it in the back of a cupboard when I moved in," he told Flint, when asked about the artefact. "I thought it would be fun."

"Fun with naked flames around this lot? A barbecue is the only way I'd trust them," Flint observed. "Outdoors, preferably with water to hand."

Billy sought out their host. "All the beer is gone," he said plaintively.

"Jesus," John said. "All of it?"

Billy nodded.

"I'll go and buy more," John said, grabbing a leather jacket. "Try not to burn the place down while I'm gone."

Miranda nudged Flint. "Go with him."

"Why?" But there was no arguing with Miranda when she had that look in her eye, so Flint called, "Wait up," and followed John into the hallway.

They waited for the elevator, John tapping his fingers against his thigh.

"I just needed some air," Flint lied by way of explaining his presence, adding, more truthfully, "seeing that lot all week is one thing, spending my free time with them too…"

He'd veered into rudeness, he realised too late, expressing disdain at attending the party. But John smiled.

"That lot," he repeated. "I'm not included in them?"

Flint was saved by the bell as the elevator arrived with a ping. They got in, and John thumbed the button. They'd travelled down only one floor when there was a grinding noise and the elevator came to a halt, the lights flickering but thankfully remaining on.

Flint pressed the open door button and a few others in frustration. "Fuck."

John leaned in – he smelt of beer but something warm and spicy too, a heady fragrance that made Flint think of long summer evenings – and pressed the emergency button. A few moments later a tinny voice promised to come and rescue them and told them to stay calm. Flint feared it was a recorded message and that they might be stuck in here forever. Who knew how long it would be before anyone got worried about how long the beer run was taking?

John sat down in one corner of the elevator. Flint, eyeing the floor, grimaced and remained standing, leaning against the doors.

"Nice building."

John rolled his eyes. "Best I can afford," he said. "Unless you want to give me a raise."

Flint sighed. "Sorry. It's quite a nice apartment. And no, you're not getting a raise until you do something to deserve it."

John gave a slow smile; he'd take that as a challenge. Flint would have to be on his guard now. God knows what John might do in an attempt to prove himself.

This was Flint's idea of hell, suck in a small space with someone he barely knew or liked. And yet that last was a lie. He didn't dislike John, at least not now. Flint had hated him at first, the knowing smirks, the bouncy enthusiasm (he fancied John's blood was actually fifty per cent caffeine and fifty per cent booze), the way John didn't seem to care about anything.

But he'd been wrong. One night they had both been working late. John took a phone call and when he hung up he slammed the phone down. Flint had yelled at him for abusing office equipment and the resulting apology was almost tearful. Flint had seen the mask slip, seen a more sombre John, that he did have feelings. Flint had carefully pressed for details and got only vague answers but some things were made clear. That John had been hurt in the past and hell, Flint knew what that felt like and he'd said something gruff but comforting. It had worked and John had pulled himself together.

Flint had never forgotten that night and they'd both been a little closer and more understanding of each other's personalities and quirks since.

Miranda thought it was more, but then she'd been trying to get him to date again for months now and she was clearly getting desperate. John was – well, not Thomas. And that should have been reason enough to dismiss the idea.

But it wasn't. To Flint's surprise he was starting to have inappropriate thoughts about his employee. He didn't believe in office romances. It only caused problems when shit hit the fan – he expected Anne to snap one of these days and it would be a miracle if Flint didn't find Jack's corpse stuffed in the shredder, let alone have them work amicably together.

Flint had rules. John had barely any. And John was becoming a bad influence on Flint.

Being stuck with him was not helping matters. Flint could feel his heart rate increase. He could not even lie to himself that it was anxiety over the elevator malfunction.

"They'll rescue us soon," John said, mistaking Flint's arousal for anxiety. "And at least you're not alone in here."

Flint simply nodded.

"Did Miranda make you come to the party?"

Flint considered lying, decided against it. "Yes."

"You truly didn't want to come." John's tone was light, hard to read. Maybe he was offended and covering it up, maybe he was teasing, trying to take Flint's mind off their situation.

"Parties aren't my thing," Flint said. "Fraternising with employees isn't my thing."

"Then what is your thing?" John was grinning, eyes bright. Jesus, was he flirting? He thought Flint could be claustrophobic and yet he thought this was a good time to flirt?

Flint folded his arms. "Quiet dinner dates with good conversation."

"I can do that," John said. "I own a tux and everything. I once spent three months as a sommelier so I know a bit about wine too."

Flint frowned. "More than a bit, surely?"

"Well I wasn't precisely qualified," John admitted. "I was lucky it took that long to check my references but the owner was having some financial difficulties at the time he hired me and he was rather distracted."

That was a new piece of information and it made the hairs on the back of Flint's neck prickle. He too had been distracted when he'd hired John. Marvellous. Now he was going to have to double-check John's references. For all he knew he was trapped in an elevator with a serial killer.

"So is that a yes to dinner?"

Flint blinked. "No! There is to be no fraternising with or between employees."

John scoffed. "You do know about half the office is sleeping with the other half? I mean Billy's not, not that I'm aware of, but Max is more than compensating in that department."

Flint screwed his eyes shut. He did not want to hear this because then he'd know, rather than strongly suspect, and if he knew, he'd have to do something about it.

"Besides, now I told you my story of the time I talked my way into being a wine waiter you're thinking I lied about my qualifications and experience when I applied to your firm," John said, never one to shut up. "So you'll probably fire me. Then I won't be an employee and we can go to dinner."

Flint stared at him. Fire him and then date him? Was he serious? He had an urge to wipe that smug grin off John's face.

"Shut up," Flint yelled and John flinched. "Do you want to get fired?"

John shook his head, got to his feet. "No. But it's rather out of my hands, isn't it?"

"Only because you never know when to shut up!"

"That," John said, "is the one thing I've never learnt to do."

Flint believed him. "And why, if I fire you, would I take you to dinner?"

John beamed at him. "I'm so glad you're taking me, because if I'm out of a job I really can't afford to take you."

"I didn't say I was, I asked why I would!"

"Oh." John shrugged. "Because I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not looking back." He stepped forward. Flint could move no further back.

"What are you doing?" Flint asked, unaccountably breathless.

"Giving you the chance to do what you've wanted to since," and John hesitated. "Not since we met, but I think, yes, it was the day I wore those tight jeans and you looked like you wanted to tear them off me but you settled for sending me home to change into something more appropriate."

The arrogance floored Flint. Yet was it arrogance since John was perfectly correct? Flint's hand balled into a fist but before he could use it, he grabbed at John with his other hand, clutching him close and kissing him hard on the mouth.

John pressed against him, returning the kiss, and thank God, because Flint didn't want to be had up for sexually assaulting an employee.

When they parted, John licked at his lips, smiled.

"Is that what it takes to shut you up?" Flint asked.

John nodded.

The elevator began moving again. It was impeccable timing. Flint couldn't help but be suspicious. He would murder John if he ever found this was a set-up.

The doors slid open and they exited into the lobby. They still had beer to buy – and they were taking the stairs on the way back if Flint had anything to say about it.

"It's a pity we have the party to get back to," John said as they stepped out onto the street. "I think we have things to discuss, at least until you need to shut me up again."

Flint lifted one shoulder. "Miranda will keep an eye on things," he said. "I don't think we need to rush back."

John grinned. "Then let's take the long way around."

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr promo post here](http://meridianrose.tumblr.com/post/153525856246/warming-the-house-and-the-heart-modern-au-first)


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